Never Let Sammy Know
by StarkLovesShawarma
Summary: It aggravated Dean how naïve Sam could be at times. But mostly, it just reminded him that he was going to abide by his father's wishes, and protect his little brother till the end.


**My first Supernatural fic. I just recently got into the series, and I've fallen in love with it. I do like Wincest, but this isn't one. Sorry if it sucks, this was just some spontaneous drabble.**

I don't own the show Supernatural or the book 'John Winchester's Journal,' or anything else you may recognize from this story.

Sometimes, Dean can't take it anymore. He asks himself how much more of this he can endure, but God forbid he would ever let Sam know about it.

He stepped into the shoddy motel bathroom, looking over his shoulder before closing the door. Dean had become too paranoid for his own good. At least, that's what his brother tells him.

After today, all he wanted to do was shower. His bare feet stuck to the bathroom's white tiled floor, leaving behind sweaty, bloody footprints as he stepped out of his threadbare jeans. Dean hated when blood seeped into his boots, especially when it wasn't his own.

Especially when it was an innocent person's.

He and Sam had fought a Wendigo today, a creature they hadn't encountered since they began looking for their father back in 2005. They had managed to torch the grotesque creature, but nevertheless, two innocent hikers were murdered. Thrashed and reduced to tattered chunks of flesh.

Dean despised letting people they were attempting to save, die.

He was in the bathroom now, alone with his hand turning the rusted knob of the dirty shower, releasing the water. He leaned against the peeling wall, glancing down at his blood-soaked clothes laying in a heap on the floor.

Damn, that was his favorite shirt.

The shower's stream hits Dean's body, tingling his split skin, soothing his throbbing muscles as he tilts his head back, closing his sore eyes. The smell of copper is thick in the muggy air of the bathroom, and for once in his life, Dean completely hates it.

He hangs his head, opening his eyes to watch his hair drip the pinkish color, waiting patiently for the streams to turn clear. Water began to pool around Dean's feet, radiating warmth throughout his entire being. When did he close the drain? He didn't bother to open it back up, this felt too good.

Soon enough Dean is sinking into the tub, letting his body be surrounded by the bloodied water. He turned the silver knob with his foot, and the artificial rain halted, leaving the room quiet.

The muffled sounds of television could be heard from outside the bathroom, and Dean smirked, thinking of Sam.

Sammy.

Dean sunk further into the diluted water until his ears were engulfed, making every noise from the outside world cease.

Stairing at the ceiling, he dazed off, and began to remember.

_"Daddy! Daddy look!" Dean shouted excitedly. John turned in his chair just in time to spot Sam propping himself up with the couch, letting his grasp fall._

Sam began to toddle unevenly towards five-year old Dean, a smile stuck to his chubby face. Sam was taking his first steps.

"Come to me Sammy, come on!" Dean grinned, waving his small hands in a frantic motion. Dimples sunk into the baby's cheeks as he giggled, obeying his older brother and waddling towards him.

Dean never liked to hear his baby brother cry, but when little Sam fell flat on his face, he did just that.

Everytime his bones scraped together under the water, the sound played in stereo into Dean's ears. Was it strange that it didn't bother him? Of course not.

Closing his eyes, he suddenly recalls something he had read in his father's journal just a few days earlier.

_1988, December 27:_

A variation, supposed to be for summoning and speaking to angels. But I've never met a hunter who believed in angels. Not even the ones who have seen demons.

Dean chuckled darkly as he shifted in the murky water. If only Dad could see him now, running around with angels and demons alike. He could bare Castiel, maybe even call him somewhat of a friend. But Ruby?

The way Dean saw it, she wasn't worth the water in the tub. She was a filthy, no-good demon, and he knew it. Dean couldn't stand the slut.

If only he could get his mindest through Sam's thick skull.

It aggravated Dean how naïve Sam could be at times. But mostly, it just reminded him that he was going to abide by his father's wishes, and protect his little brother till the end. Even if he was to lead the demon army, whatever that ment.

He vaugley remembers Albuquerque. They had finally settled down in a normal setting, going to school and waving good-bye to Daddy as he drives off to his construction job. All the way back in 1991, when things were still somewhat simple.

Dean misses that. The stability. But again, he would never let Sam know.

The only memory worth keeping from that place was when he and Sam would run out into the yard, stomping down the blades of green grass as they kicked the soccer ball back and fourth. The sun was so precious then.

Dean loves Sam with all of his heart. He can't believe how much the pipsqueek has grown up over the years, towering over him now, despite their four year age gap. Sam was so dear to Dean, probably because honestly, he has noone else.

His mother was murdered, along with his father and half-brother Adam.

Dean cries every night, fearing for the saftey of his brother, gripping a pistol tight in his right hand.

Dean grips the necklace around his neck tightly, letting himself cry silently. But he will never let Sammy know. 


End file.
